Arrow: Birds of Prey Ch. 03

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Laurel shows the Canary gratitude. Thea gets back at Roy.
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Part 3 of the 4 part series

Updated 08/30/2017
Created 11/17/2014
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Zev95
Zev95
1,577 Followers

Laurel looked over the docket of cases she'd have to make. The first one was of a serial arsonist. It came with pictures of his three victims.

She'd gone into work that morning bearing a smoothie with the smoothie dumped out and vodka filling the Styrofoam container instead. She'd been smart; that was enough to keep her on an even keel through the work day. But now, she knew she'd need something more.

Sara watched from the neighboring rooftop as Laurel reached into her desk drawer for the half-empty bottle of scotch she kept there. It'd been full at the beginning of the week.

Ever since she'd returned, she'd been checking in on her sister. She loved seeing Laurel. Just not like this.

***

Any friend of Ollie's is a friend of mine. That's what Thea had said to her when she gave Felicity free drinks for life at Club Verdant, though she was canny enough to know Felicity was something of an unsocial drinker. She drank the occasional vodka tonic because it was better than talking to a lot of people.

What Felicity didn't know was that taking Thea's offer meant she had agreed to be Thea's BFF, Thea not being the kind of girl who had female friends. At all. And so, as the club closed and the workers scurried about cleaning the place before locking up, Felicity was drafted into being Thea's sob sister. Like she could figure out her own emotions, let alone Thea's.

"I just can't believe him," Thea repeated, putting another dent in her own alcohol supply, one for herself and one for Felicity. "All I've been doing is being caring and supportive and what does Roy do? Kisses someone! In the stockroom!"

"Well, was it a boy?" Felicity asked, gingerly picking up her shotglass. "Because, you know, it's not your fault if it's a boy. Some boys are born gay, you can't make them that way. I'm really sure of that."

"It wasn't a boy. God, I want to get back at him so bad! But what am I supposed to do? He's already poor! And my family kinda already blew up his neighborhood..." Thea tossed her shot back. "Still doesn't give him the right to cheat on me!"

Felicity followed suit. Like always happened when she had one too many, her mouth got away with her. This was why, knowing how she talked when she was completely sober, Felicity didn't drink often.

"You know what I did once when my boyfriend cheated on me?" Felicity asked rhetorically.

"You had a boyfriend?"

Felicity ignored her. "We'd been dating for six weeks and for at least five of them, he'd been saying he really wanted a blowjob. I'd never given a blowjob before, I told him so, he was all 'c'mon, baby, I'll teach you!' Like it's hard. But I didn't want to give my first blowjob to some guy, you know?"

"Who else would you give it to?"

Felicity waved her off. "So then I catch him cheating on me, don't ask how—" It had involved her walking in on things that were illegal in many states, though apparently not the one she was in. "You know what I did? I went to his best friend. I went to his roommate. I went to his brother. I blew them all."

"You what?"

Felicity caught herself. "I was kinda a freak back then. Dressed like Death or something. Anyway, that's probably a bad idea, you shouldn't listen to me about relationships. Look at my face. This cute face, still single. That should tell you about me and relationships."

Thea picked up the bottle, stared at it for a few minutes as if considering Felicity's words. Felicity was about to tug on her sleeve when Thea capped the bottle and put it away, having hit some internal mark for how much alcohol she could consume. One Felicity wished she had. Thea went upstairs to her office, to rest up on the cot there.

And Felicity, distinctly woozy, went downstairs to gear up for the night's vigilantism. Maybe Oliver's island herbs would help with seeing pink elephants.

***

Laurel left the DA's office with a slight wobble, like one of her legs was underinflated compared to the other. Sara watched, worried, waiting. Only two blocks away, a street hustler noticed Laurel trip on the curb. He took out his cell phone and made a text. Sara memorized his face. If this was what she suspected it was, he'd be receiving a visit from the League of Assassins shortly.

A street later, a black van pulled in front of the tipsy Laurel. Three men piled out, tasers, rope. Laurel threw a brawling punch, managing to knock the teeth out of one surprised man. Sara moved in for the others, jumping down from a fire escape, moving in with batons. Ta-er al-Asfer. She didn't like to think of them as weapons. They were tools. She disassembled the first man, dodged the second, Laurel watching in a burly haze. Eyes wide open, astonished—sober, almost.

The first man was dispatched, the second quickly followed, but Sara hadn't noticed the man Laurel had punched out. He jumped to his feet, swinging a tire iron before Sara had even turned to face him. She went down, blood smearing her golden wig.

Laurel lashed out again, cursing "Fucker!" as she drove one of her pumps into his genitalia. The third man joined his compatriots on the ground and the fourth man, waiting in the driver's seat, decided to cut his losses and speed off.

Laurel noted the license plate number, forgot it, then woozily took stock of the situation. Her three attackers were unconscious—fit for the hospital. But so was her rescuer. And she couldn't just bring in the cops. They'd arrest this woman, this—beautiful woman who'd saved her, who'd saved so many others if half the reports she'd read could be believed.

Laurel thought fast, if not particularly well. She helped the dazed Canary to her feet, whipping off her coat and throwing it over her to hide the distinctive leathers. There was nothing she could do for the Canary's mask—much like with the Arrow, she couldn't afford to know that secret. She took off her hat as well, putting it on the Canary's head and pulling it down to hide her eyes. Then she dragged the Canary to the main road, knowing the blonde was fading fast. Luckily, a taxi pulled up before the Canary was totally gone. Laurel was able to load her into the backseat just as Sara went totally black.

***

After a catnap, Felicity just had to hack the city with a hangover. After five hours, Oliver, Roy, and Diggle called it a night, so she was able to get out of the basement—just now realizing that that was a pretty offensive place for them to stash their resident computer genius. What, she couldn't hack from Oliver's office at Queen Consolidated?

The moment she stepped back into the club, Nyssa was on her. Backing her up against the shut door, taking off her glasses, then kissing Felicity's eyelids with gentle presses of her lips.

"Nyssa! What's gotten into you?"

Nyssa hummed. "Sara's off being a white knight. It pleases me to do this. And it advances my plans."

"What pla—" Felicity broke off as the very tip of Nyssa's tongue traced over her eyebrows. She had no idea why that felt good.

"Very nice," Nyssa smiled. She caught Felicity's chin in the crook of her hand, her thumb opening Felicity's mouth. "Now let's try it on the lips."

Her own eyes closed as she kissed Felicity, tenderly, lovingly, leaving her shuddering with affection. God, Felicity needed a boyfriend. Girlfriend. Well, technically she had two girlfriends, but she needed at least one who wasn't a master assassin.

"And now I'd like to do that to your teats," Nyssa said, parking her glasses back over Felicity's clear eyes.

"My what now?"

"These," Nyssa explicated, pulling Felicity's blouse up over her breasts. She held it, hiked up to Felicity's shoulders, as she leaned down to gently kiss and nibble and lick and suck through Felicity's bra.

"Ohhhh—" Felicity breathed. "Those teats." She unconsciously arched her back, urging her tits forward for more of Nyssa's tender treatment. Then she peeled her blouse off altogether.

Nyssa smiled to herself. As much as she enjoyed the contest of wills that was a relationship with Sara, her equal, her perfect match, she did so love to just take Felicity. She left Felicity's bra before her teeth totally demolished it, kissing down to Felicity's navel, tonguing that, then unzipping her skirt, knowing Felicity would need no more coaxing. Indeed, Felicity barely even needed a second to step out of her skirt and lower her panties for Nyssa's perusal.

And as Nyssa's hot tongue slipped inside Felicity, and the hacker's deep moans filled the room, Nyssa knew there was no way Thea Queen wasn't watching, having been drawn to the area by a series of decoys Nyssa had planned.

***

Thea strongly considered the merits of lesbianism.

I wonder how I'd look with short hair...

***

Sara came to reluctantly, cursing herself for being so stupid, an assassin getting laid out by a simple thug. At least she was alive—comfortable and unbound, her costume and mask undisturbed. She wondered who had rescued her, Ollie or Nyssa. Which would be worse—Ollie getting judgmental about how she would get herself killed, doing exactly what he did, or Nyssa being smug, mocking, teasing, until Sara exploded into something rough and... disciplinary.

The Nyssa thing sounded better, but the days Nyssa would spend being insufferable first...

Coming fully awake, Sara realized it was neither. Her head pounded, and when she raised her hand she felt a bandage gracing her temple, but even through the dwindling mental fog, she knew where she was. Laurel Lance's apartment.

"Good, you're awake." The sister herself got up out of the chair at bedside, standing over her. The icy remnants of a jack and coke nearly sloshed out of the glass she was holding. "I was worried you had a concussion—" Laurel slurred the difficult word, "then I would have to take you to a hospital... but first I would have to get you out of those clothes... out of that mask... into some of mine... it woulda been a big mess. This is a lot easier—thanks for waking up!"

Sara looked down at herself, pulling up the sheets of Laurel's bed. She'd had sleepovers under those sheets, watched dumb movies with Laurel, ate ice cream. Now she was back and Laurel didn't even know.

Her only damage seemed to be the shiner on her cranium, but Laurel had taken the liberty of removing her jacket—and her pants. Sara guessed she had tried to go through with the plan of hiding her identity from the hospital, but become discouraged. Probably by the need for a drink, Sara thought, smelling her breath as Laurel leaned in close.

"I just want you to know," Laurel said, "that I know I tried to arrest the Arrow and there were all those guys—with the guns—you know, you were there. You had that little... ghetto blaster ball. But now, I know that you're a real hero! You and the Arrow, you saved me! You saved the city! Lotsa times! I just wanted ta thank you."

Sara tried to lower her voice as far as it would go—wishing she had her disguiser, but it was on her belt, and that was on her pants. "No thanks are necessary."

"But it is!" Laurel protested, getting even closer, putting her forehead against Sara's.

Sara wondered how Laurel could possibly not realize she was talking to her sister—though, judging from some of the empty bottles on the floor, Laurel might not know she wasn't talking to the Arrow.

Laurel continued looking deeply, unknowingly, into her little sister's eyes. "I said such awful things about you... I blamed you for Tommy's death. And you're just trying to help. When have I ever helped anyone? I'm such a—" Laurel sniffled, "fucking loser!"

"No, you're not!" Sara protested, working hard to keep her Angie Harmon act going. "You're a great attorney. Maybe you made some mistakes, but everyone's made some mistakes. I killed some people." Probably shouldn't have said that to a law enforcement official.

"You're so nice." Laurel patted Sara's leg, very close to her panties. "I have to make it up to you. Let me make it up to you... show you how much Starling City appreciates its heroes!"

Sara felt hands in her panties, pulling them down. She was so confused, she actually thought someone else was in the bedroom with them before realizing it was Laurel doing it. Her eyes grew into saucers. She realized what Laurel was doing—and also, somehow, how sexy Laurel was, how good she looked in dishabille, her jacket off, her bra off, her blouse partially unbuttoned, her skirt tight across her hips and ass. The flesh underneath it all moving sensuously out-of-step with the clothes, as if they were about to come off.

Sara unthinkingly shuffled her legs, allowing Laurel to pull her panties off her feet—looking at Laurel as she never had before. Seeing her and finding it impossible not to think of sex, the sex coming off Laurel in waves, the sex suggested in her slightest movement, engrained in her husky voice. Even her hair, falling off her shoulders in auburn waves, seemed to whisper sex.

And Sara was aroused. Powerfully, potently aroused.

"Laurel, we can't do this, I'm your..." Sara broke off. She couldn't tell Laurel she was still alive, it would raise far too many questions, put her in far too much danger.

But Laurel was more than willing to pick up where she left off. "You're my hero!"

She crawled onto the bed, over Sara's motionless legs—not kicking at her, not getting up so she could leave, just lying there as Laurel padded up them. Laurel's nostrils flaring as she smelled what Sara knew to be her own arousal. Breathing hard, Sara looked down at her own cunt. It was wet. Like she was following Sara's gaze, Laurel lowered her face, down until her lips touched Sara's labia. Then her tongue, experimental, inexperienced, touching the seething folds, catching the damp hair between her lips and pulled at it, nuzzling her nose into Sara's clit...

"Oh God!" Sara breathed. "This is wrong, we can't-!"

"Not like I'm seeing anyone," Laurel said, her lips endlessly, savoringly working upon Sara's cunt. "Everyone I've seen is dead. 'Cept Ollie. But he used to be dead. You're not dead, are you Canary?"

"Not..." Sara gasped. "Not lately."

"Good. I'd hate to break a taboooooo." Then Laurel leapt forward with her tongue.

Sara was shocked by her big sister's willingness—her sluttiness. Then, amazed.

Then, pleased. She knew she should be feeling revulsion, shame, guilt, so many negative things, but all she felt was how good Laurel's tongue was. When she closed her eyes, there were liquid firecrackers of color on her eyelids—that's what the sensations exploding between her thighs felt like.

Helplessly, Sara felt her mind split. One side only experiencing what Laurel was doing to her, as good as anything Nyssa had subjected her to. The other seemed to be watching her from afar, seeing Sara writhe as her big sister laid down with her own wet, yielding thighs as a pillow.

Why? Because she was her sister's sister, and she still remembered sharing a room with Laurel as children. Seeing Laurel grow tall and beautiful, admiring herself in the mirror, Sara never able to envy her, just love her. They had always loved each other, always given each other the extra bit of love they'd needed but never been able to get from anyone else. On a subconscious level, Laurel wanted her sister back, wanted that love back, and so did Sara.

That love felt too good to put an end to.

"Faster, faster!" Sara urged, her own voice slipping out, but Laurel not seeming to notice. If she did notice, her only reaction was to obey.

It was just what Sara needed. A canary's cry started in her throat, trilling out of her as she raced toward her climax, Laurel's tongue lashing about inside her as if punishing her for the incestuous joy she felt. Sara came with all her pent-up fury and still Laurel labored, grinding her thighs together inside her tight skirt, her panties shredding wetly. Sara trilled to pull away, but Laurel ignored her, totally immersed in the heat and taste of Sara's fulfillment, the rush of juices to her lips.

As she came, her pleasure turning to a burning, aching thing, Sara felt a stab of sudden guilt. Even if she was alright with doing this, Laurel wasn't. Laurel had no idea who Sara really was. And Sara had taken advantage of that ignorance, allowing her own sister to enter into this incestuous act without a care in the world. Screwing her eyes shut, Sara confessed "Laurel, I'm your sister!"

The cusp of fulfillment welled up in Laurel. With a shuddering sigh, she released Sara. "I feel the same way," she said, smiling at her newfound friend as she straddled her face, forcing her dripping cunt to Sara's open mouth. "Solidarity!"

***

Felicity rushed home. The one advantage of being Oliver's secretary was that she kept the hours he kept. She'd sleep through drawn, get up in time for the evening's work, then the nightly superhero stuff—who knew, if she kept managing her time so well, maybe she'd even start a social life.

After having changed into her pajamas, Felicity nuked an old carton of KFC mashed potatoes in the microwave, wishing she had some gravy to go with it. Salt would have to do. She started the livestream of Sailor Moon Crystal on her laptop, grateful that one of the five languages she spoke was Japanese, and was just about to give into the urge to sing along with the theme song when there was a knock at her door.

Felicity closed the laptop hurriedly, propped it against the wall, hid the mashed potatoes under it. Not many people bothered her at home. She was guessing it would be Oliver, and even if it seemed like most of the time they were competing over who could be the most socially awkward, she just didn't want him to have a certain idea of her when he could have another idea of her. Like, 'let's give that woman orgasms'... maybe.

Felicity opened the door. Wrong Queen.

"Hey Phe," Thea said, having apparently decided she could invent a nickname for someone else.

"Thea... hi." Felicity looked her over. Thea was wearing a minidress that looked like a T-shirt and stockings that looked like lace. On Felicity, that'd look like a Halloween costume. On Thea, it looked like she was trying hard, but not too hard—more like it was effortless. Because she was rich and pretty.

Felicity's pajamas had a rainbow on them. Her mother'd given them to her.

"This is my apartment," she said. "What are you doing at my apartment... if you don't mind me asking? About my apartment? And you being in it," she added as Thea stepped inside.

Thea shut the door behind her. "I was just thinking about what you said."

"You shouldn't, I say a lot of things, most of them are just... not good." Felicity shut her eyes. "Like that. Should not have said that, many of things I say are good. I have great self-esteem."

"You know what I've really never done?" Thea stepped closer to Felicity. "I have never fucked Roy up the ass."

"Oh. Well. A lot of guys don't go for that. Not gay guys, obviously, but you said he wasn't gay and you'd know, right? Well, I guess if you were dating a gay man, then you'd be the last to know..."

"I've also never had lesbian sex." Thea stepped right up against Felicity. "Sex with straight girls doesn't count, obviously. I mean real, vegan cupcake, adopted kitten, lesbian sex."

"Oh, me!" Felicity squeaked. "I'm not a lesbian! I mean, I haven't checked lately, but the last time I did check, I was straight. Mostly straight. I know a lot of hot guys."

"I saw you with that chick in Verdant." Thea smiled off-kilter. "Getting eaten out right up against the wall, that's what I need! Not Roy lying to me..."

"But if we had sex, wouldn't I have been lying to you about being straight?"

"I'm ready." Thea opened up her purse. Inside was a banana—oh, wait, no it wasn't. "I spent five hundred dollars on this. It's as close to fucking a black guy as you can get while being a white lesbian. Ever been penetrated, Phe? I know a lot of you lesbians haven't."

Zev95
Zev95
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